


Time to go

by MorbidKitty



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, farewell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3685020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorbidKitty/pseuds/MorbidKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post DA2, pre DAI. Circumstances force Hawke's companions to leave her side until only her lover and Varric remain. But the day comes when Varric can no longer follow her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time to go

**Author's Note:**

> Hawke/Varric friendship is quite possibly the greatest relationship in Dragon Age (for me, at least). Draft written a few years ago.

He puts off leaving for two weeks after almost everyone else has gone, but one morning, when the dew is still fresh in the lush wilderness, his concern over family and clan matters forces him to tell Hawke it’s time for him to go.

Varric sees her lip quiver and then he’s looking anywhere but at her.

_Hawke._

This red-headed whirlwind that swooped down on Kirkwall and transformed herself into a legend she could barely live up to. Hawke who gave life to his tall tales. Hawke who’d make an impossible shot into the eye of a High Dragon. This woman with a quick reply always at hand. (He’s going to chuckle forever at Massive Head-Trauma Bay.)

His _friend._

"I knew this day would come," she says, looking down. "I didn’t say anything because I… didn’t want to think about it."

"Oh, quit your sentimentality." The dwarf waves a hand dismissively, shuffling in place uncomfortably. "If you keep this up you’ll just make me cry."

"Varric…"

He glances at her and regrets it immediately. There are so many things written on her beautiful face at that moment it’s impossible to name them all, but true to his story-telling skills, Varric always find the right words.

 _Seven years_. He lets out a shuddering breath. Seven years of friendship, of struggling through poverty, of strife between mage and templar, and of precious days and nights when they had nothing lose and everything to gain. He feels his eyes burn and a lump form in his throat. Suddenly, seven years feels like a lifetime.

"Dammit, Hawke," he curses, and looks away again, wipes at a tear angrily, knowing that Fenris is close-by, no doubt politely looking the other way. Hawke closes the distance between them. Always ignoring any boundaries, he thinks to himself fondly as she bends down. Damn her height. And Varric still won’t look at her. Over the years he’s seen her face shining with happiness, twisted in rage, forlorn in grief, and red with the effort of holding in laughter. But he is in no hurry to find out what goodbye looks like.

"Varric." She wraps her arms around him. He lets out a choked sob, grabs her shoulders and buries his face in her hair.

"I am going to miss you, Hawke. I’ve become… quite fond of you."

She smiles against his shoulder. “Right back at ya, trusty dwarf.”

They stay like that for a while and Varric thinks he’s recovered, but then she tightens her hold and whispers: “What am I going to do without you?”

"You just had to say that…" His voice breaks and the farewell takes longer.

The sun has climbed higher and Varric idly notices how it has given Hawke’s hair a beautiful coppery shine. They look at each other and smile quietly. She straightens and looks over at Fenris, silhouetted against the sky and looking infuriatingly statuesque and calm. Varric wipes at his eyes again and nods at the elf.

"You take care of her, Broody." Fenris makes a sound of acknowledgement. "I mean it. If you let anyone lay a finger on her, you, Bianca and me are gonna have to talk."

"You have my word," the elf promises solemnly. Varric doesn’t doubt him.

Hawke is looking at the horizon and the dwarf feels something like nostalgia at the wanderlust apparent in her eyes. Sadly, whatever designs she is formulating in her mind will not include him.

The sun is climbing fast.

"It’s time," Fenris says. "We should move on." His last words are directed at Hawke. Strong words, laced with comfort.

"Yes," she says, almost sadly. "Lead the way."

Fenris begins to walk up the hill, Hawke trailing him, reluctantly and slowly at first, glancing back at Varric, until she falls into steady pace behind him. Varric watches as they make their way up the grassy, fragrant hill. He knows he should go on his way as well yet he stays put, eyes on Hawke and her companion. He sighs heavily, grateful for the wind on his face. At the top, she stops and turns. The wind plays with her hair and after a moment’s hesitation she raises her hand. Varric can’t help but stay undecided whether it is a greeting or a farewell. He raises his hand in reply and she flashes him a brilliant smile. This is the sight Varric etches into his memory, a precious portrait of a more precious friend.

And with that, she turns and hurries after Fenris, disappearing from sight. It is only after nothing but the wind and a lonely bird of prey in the sky remain that Varric realizes the word goodbye was never uttered by any of them. With one last lingering look at the hill, he turns, takes a steadying breath and begins walking.


End file.
